Star Force: Origin Series Box Set (13-16)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  Paul got in an hour and a half, then broke off to head up to the newly discovered holographic sparring program and give it a try…at the beginner levels. What Rafa, Oni, and Davis had accidentally reactivated was a level 54 program and they were lucky no one had been seriously hurt, for so far their investigations had yet to reveal any sort of safety protocols in the programming.

  As much as he wanted to linger there, he knew there was much more to see so he bounced around explored sections of the pyramid, running to and fro to save time in transit and to give him a little bit more of a workout. There were hundreds of rooms at the top of the pyramid that had been reserved for Humans, with the slightly larger Raptors also occupying levels above the command deck along with 4 other ‘small’ races.

  The internal structures within the separate ‘embassy’ zones were drastically different, with the Rit’ko’sor construction being choppy and elevated. There were no hallways or pathways that didn’t have perches or stepping blocks jutting out at irregular points, all of which led to other access points. Moreover, the chunk of the pyramid that was reserved for them wasn’t split up into levels like the Human section was, it was broken up into bits and pieces of oddly sized rooms everywhere, resembling a weird cross between a rookery and a hamster cage, right down to the tube-like connective tracks.

  The Ari’tat section was accessible to Humans, but only if they liked crawling as much as walking. Their passageways were more traditional, but diminutive. Paul spent about ten minutes working his way around the nearest chambers then gave up, deciding it wasn’t worth getting a crick in his neck just yet when there was so much else to explore.

  In stark contrast, the tiers below the command deck held huge architecture to house the embassies of the larger dinosaurs, all of which gained entrance via a series of external doors on the 5th tier that connected directly to the large ramps that led up and down within the pyramid, topping out at the command deck and bottoming out at what Star Force had thought was the pyramid floor on tier 18. Yesterday that assumption was disproven as the Archons were able to open massive floor doors that exposed additional ramps heading further down.

  Paul didn’t know much more than that, having gone to sleep as those reports started to come in, but intended to head down there during the afternoon after he checked out the hangar bay where Davis had told him several V’kit’no’sat ships still stood. The bay was also located on the 5th tier, with the smaller upper half having a secondary entrance/exit point on the 4th tier.

  He entered on the 5th, which was entirely dedicated to one massive flight deck with 13 ships spread out in the otherwise empty hangar. Ten of them had been partially dismantled, including a ridiculously massive one that Paul recognized as an Oso’lon transport, with some active work crews present in the bay running additional tests while three copies of the smallest ship design appeared to be still intact.

  “Impressive, no?” a tech asked as Paul walked up to him as he was pulling a crystal tray from the underside of a medium-sized ship…or so far as Star Force scaling went. For the V’kit’no’sat it was pathetically small.

  “Very. Any new insights?”

  “Bits and pieces every now and then. Nothing major. These are modular control crystals,” he said, holding up a hexagonal tray with dozens of crystals slotted into it. “Some of their equipment uses these like program uploads. Swap out modular weaponry or other components and likewise swap out part of the computer system. We’ve been trying to build a reader of our own, but so far the best data we’ve been able to pull off of one of these is a basic holding structure. I’m running an upgrade to our sensor against all the different crystal types, hoping we pick up something more from at least one of them, then we’ll go back and try to build a better sensor and repeat ad nausea.”

  Paul nodded, understanding the painstaking nature of the work the Star Force researchers were doing with technology far beyond their comprehension. “Mind if I go inside?”

  “Help yourself,” he said, waving him towards the port access hatch.

  “Thanks,” Paul said, walking down the length of the smooth hull and stepping inside. There wasn’t much room, but there were two distinct sections…a cockpit and personnel bay. Early on this type of ship had been tagged as a ‘gunship’ by the Archons based on the data sent back to Atlantis, but other than basic schematics and other technical jargon, no data regarding the ship’s purpose had ever surfaced. That was, until yesterday.

  The secure files they’d been accessing tagged it as a small Human troop transport/cargo ship, designed primarily for atmospheric purposes but also capable of short range space flights, such as out to a planet’s moons and back. It was ill suited for combat against the other V’kit’no’sat races’ ships, but then again that was never a design consideration and it did serve the Ter’nat as a viable and capable gunship in their often one-sided battles against other races within the galaxy, delivering special ops teams behind enemy lines to cause all sorts of mayhem, as well as functioning as a point to point rescue craft.

  Paul counted the seats, two rows high. A catwalk passed a foot over his head, functioning as the floor for the second level, accessible by a short, spine-like ladder on either end of the elongated cabin. There were 12 seats on each of the four rows, minus two where the port hatch was, giving the gunship a carrying capacity of 46 plus cockpit crew. He also knew that the seats could be removed, on both levels, along with the catwalk to open the hold up for cargo crates or small equipment pieces, accessible by a rear hatch that otherwise remained sealed as a bulkhead.

  All the seats were oversized, which was understandable given the larger size of the Ter’nat. The walkway between the rows seemed small though, and Paul thought the Knights would have had trouble fitting in without kneeing each other. Apparently once the hold was filled people weren’t supposed to be walking around. That certainly clashed with Star Force’s design motif, but Paul understood the tactical significance of stacking as many troops inside as possible to minimize the number of ships necessary to deliver an assault force to any given location.

  Paul walked forward and into the bottom half of the cockpit. Above his head was another compartment with a half ladder above his head as the only means of climbing up. He saw three seats on the lower level, situated west, north, and east if the hold were to be considered south. There was barely a square meter of floor space available between the backs of the seats, bracketing him in and furthering the claustrophobic nature of the craft.

  He slid into the forward pilot’s seat and ran a hand over the control boards. There were a number of ‘hard’ buttons arrayed for the most basic of tasks along with two rotational handles. From the research reports he knew that the one on the left controlled the lateral spin the craft was capable of in a gravity well. Turning the handle to the right would spin the ship clockwise, left the opposite direction while maintaining its upright position on its anti-gravity engines.

  The other handle wasn’t secured on a central pivot point, instead it could ‘float’ around the board a few inches with the direction of the handle always being parallel to the orientation of the ship. The farther one pushed the handle to the right the ship would drift laterally. Forward and reverse worked the same as well as diagonal vectors.

  Height over terrain was regulated by a slide lever, while rotation was controlled by a thick icon that represented the ship. Rotating the icon would tip the ship, which apparently did not have to stay upright in order to maintain its anti-gravity lift capability.

  There were other controls that handled the primary thrust, which was unrelated to the lifting technology. This allowed the craft to obtain its tactical speed, as well as orbital maneuvering capability, and accomplished it through a series of 6 engine pods half buried into the hull of the ship. An odd-looking joystick that had the ability to rotate the handgrip forward handled the more traditional piloting capabilities for dog fighting or space travel, but the bulk of the pilot’s control systems were currently inaccessible.
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  Paul fixed that by hitting the cabin power-up button. As a few interior running lights came on, so did the holographic controls which filled the space around his head, boxing him into a small cubicle of light. He resisted powering up any other systems, given the partially dismantled nature of the ship, and settled for a quick work-through of the data systems…most of which were offline, thanks to the removed crystal tray.

  He passed his hand through the viewscreen, which superimposed over the forward windows, then tagged the solid hologram to his right, bringing up a navigational program.

  “We are so dead if they come back,” Paul muttered, thoroughly impressed. He wished the hangar doors weren’t covered in dirt, otherwise he would have seriously considered taking the gunship out on a short test flight, security concerns or no.

  “You think they will, after all this time?” the tech asked, appearing behind him in the hold.

  “Sorry, did I disrupt your work?”

  “No, no…just saw the lights come on and wondered what you were up to.”

  “Just looking around,” Paul said, spinning his seat halfway towards the rear so he could look at the man. “And to answer your question, yes I do, though something has obviously prevented them from doing so all this time. Whenever that changes, I imagine they’ll want their colony back.”

  “You a pilot?”

  “We all are, among other things. Can you see these holographic displays?”

  “Sure. Something wrong with them?”

  “No, just wondering if they were security locked. Some of the others in the pyramid are only visible to us, given our ambrosia levels, we think.”

  “I heard about that yesterday. The database team nearly flipped their wig when they started to find new access.”

  “Well, they can’t see any of it, so we have to translate for them. Frustrating for them, I’d imagine.”

  “I don’t think so,” the tech disagreed. “They’ve been trying to hack their way into greater access for years without success. Having to run the information through you guys is a gift by comparison.”

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way. I was judging their reactions.”

  “How’s your V’kit’no’sat?”

  “Ha, well that might be part of the problem. We’ve been learning the language for longer than most of you have been alive and I know some of the lab coats don’t like us having more knowledge in their area of expertise than them.”

  The tech frowned. “How old are you anyway?”

  “87.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Ambrosia plus training,” Paul said, smiling. “Works wonders.”

  “You look like a college freshman…not my grandpa.”

  “The Ter’nat lived thousands of years.”

  “Who?”

  “Sorry, that’s what the V’kit’no’sat called their Humans.”

  “Thousands of years?”

  “Yeah, can you imagine how strong and skilled they could get in that length of time?”

  The tech looked around the cockpit. “Must have some damn good pilots then.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Paul said, pointing up.

  “Oh, sorry,” the tech said, stepping back into the hold.

  “Auxiliary cockpit?” Paul asked, climbing.

  “That was the initial theory, but we’ve kind of nixed it. We’re not sure what it is, except that it’s not redundant.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “The system’s not responsive, and the hand controls don’t match up to any ship functions we can identify.”

  Paul stepped off the hold and walked forward into a small compartment that had a single seat ringed with what looked like double the holograms that the pilot had been enveloped with.

  “I think I know what the problem is,” Paul said after sitting down and tagging a few of the icons, accessing the ship’s comm system.

  The tech popped his head up the ladder. “What?”

  “Can you see these holograms?”

  “Holograms?” he asked, climbing up and squeezing in behind Paul’s seat. “We’ve never been able to access any up here. What are you talking about?”

  “Can’t see anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Try something for me,” Paul said, touching one of the solid holographic buttons and holding his finger in place. “Try to put your index finger next to mine and see if you feel anything.”

  The tech frowned but did as he was told.

  “What the hell?” he said, feeling something invisible on his fingertip.

  “Now pull back an inch.”

  The man drew back his finger and Paul did likewise. “Now try again.”

  The tech pressed his finger back to the same spot but it passed through as if nothing was there.

  “Now that is impressive,” Paul commented. “It becomes solid to my touch, otherwise it’s pass through like the others.”

  “I’ll be damned,” the tech said, waving his hand around through the glowing icons that only Paul could see. “What have you got?”

  “Comm system came up by default, but there are other options,” he said, digging through the localized computer network using the invisible buttons. “Some of the stuff is offline, probably linked to the components you’ve pulled out, but this appears to be some type of command and control post to link in with other assets in the field. Maybe a combat controller to coordinate ground ops. I also have a fleet interlink prompt that’s blank.”

  “One of the crystals I’ve pulled is communications related…I think.”

  Paul leaned back and rubbed his chin. “So their pilots aren’t required to take ambrosia. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “The ship is also for short range cargo hauling,” the tech reminded him. “Maybe it’s that way so the civilian pilots could fly them.”

  “Doesn’t feel right,” Paul said, standing up. “I’m going to go check on something. Nice meeting you…”

  “Ericson,” the tech offered, along with his hand before backing down the short ladder.

  “Paul,” the Archon said, hopping down once the tech was clear.

  “That a first or last name?”

  “The only one I have. My full designation is Paul-024.”

  “Well, Paul-024, thanks for that breakthrough. More than we’ve learned in years.”

  “Happy to help,” he said as the pair left the ship. “Some of us are going to be sticking around a while, so hopefully we’ll be keeping you guys busy.”

  “Bring it on,” the tech said, anxious. “This is what we live for.”

  Paul bowed slightly. “Challenge accepted,” he offered with a sarcastic smile then jogged off, heading back to find a database access console, knowing that the ones on the deck were mostly limited to the bay functions.

  7

  “Hey, you need a lift?” a female technician asked as Paul hopped up out of the segmented ramp and onto the command deck.

  “Do you know where I can find an unused terminal?” he asked the woman just now climbing onto a beefier version of the Star Force mongoose. It was parked next to two others that apparently weren’t in use, which allowed the researchers to motor across the command deck rather than walk the spanning distances between pedestals.

  She frowned, thinking. “One and two are in use, I know, but we might try three. I’m headed off to 27, so I can take the long route and find you one on the way.”

  “Appreciated,” Paul said, slipping into the passenger seat next to her.

  “Not enough of these around for all you guys, huh?” she asked, accelerating the oversized 4-wheeler down the ‘highway’ marked by a cluster of three painted lines that shot the gap between the two nearest pedestals.

  “We don’t mind running,” Paul assured her. They’d deliberately tried to avoid using the limited number of transports to keep from dispossessing the permanent staff…that and he doubted the techs were fit enough to hoof it back and forth on a daily basis.

  “So
I noticed. How fast can you guys go?”

  “Sprinting, most of us can get past 25 miles per hour without breaking a sweat.”

  “Miles? You American?”

  “Was…haven’t been back there in a long time.”

  “I know the feeling,” she said as the lines split and she followed a green one to the right. “Before this place became home, Atlantis was. I haven’t been back to Sweden in a lifetime. What do you need the terminal for?”

  “A hunch I want to follow.”

  “Concerning?”

  “The restricted access. I have a theory I want to check out.”

  “Well, you’re certainly making our jobs a whole lot easier. Davis should have brought you guys down here sooner.”

  “That’s what we’ve been telling him for decades. What are you working on?”

  “Tri-coding.”

  “Trinary?” he asked, referring to an alternate form of computer processing, but to his knowledge the dynamics of the V’kit’no’sat computers didn’t look anything like theirs.

  “No, sorry. Just a bit of slang. I’m working on the computer coding for the Triceratops systems. Each one is separate and structured differently, to keep others out, we think. It makes any attempt to hack into them insanely frustrating, because if you have a breakthrough in one it won’t carry over to the rest.”

  “But they can all get into the restricted files, yes?”

  “Seems so, though I don’t quite understand that bit yet. Being able to see what you guys see would help, though.”

  “I think a few of you need to devote yourselves to a training regimen to get your ambrosia levels up to the point where you can have access. Davis could make out a little bit, which suggests it might not take that much to be able to access the systems.”

  “I heard you were flying others in to check on those levels?” she said as they passed another 4-wheeler going the other way. She waved at the three techs before turning to follow the curve of the line around the perimeter of one of the circular pedestals to the foot of a stairwell. She pulled off and parked next to it.